


You should be here

by torigates



Series: Slide to Answer [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 23:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11172078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torigates/pseuds/torigates
Summary: Dylan didn’t call Mitch after the Mem Cup game, and if Mitch was being honest with himself he hadn’t really expected Dylan to.





	You should be here

Dylan didn’t call Mitch after the Mem Cup game, and if Mitch was being honest with himself he hadn’t really expected Dylan to. The anniversary of his own win was just a few days away, and Mitch could only imagine what it would feel like to lose. He watched as Dylan accepted the MVP trophy for the tournament, knowing it would be no consolation, and he ached for Dylan, knowing what that win would have meant to him. 

_I’m so fucking proud of you_ , he texted. 

Dylan didn’t text back, but that was okay. He needed to be with his team right now, Mitch understood that. He needed to be the captain for one more night. 

Mitch was in Aruba. He turned off the feed and went to meet up with Dvorak and his brother, hanging out in the other room of their suite. When he got back from Germany, he didn’t even have time to unpack his bags before they were on a flight again. 

Not that he was complaining. It was hot and sunny, the beaches were amazing, and the water was even better. He and Dvo and Chris went out practically every night, Dvo finally getting to take advantage of a lower drinking age. 

“It’s bullshit that you get this year round,” Dvo said, throwing back a shot. 

Mitch laughed at him and threw back his own shot. “Sucks to suck,” he said. 

Dvo shook his head ruefully, giving Mitch a playful nudge. The nightlife in Aruba was pretty fucking amazing, and Mitch was enjoying the chance to really let loose. Sure, there had been opportunities to party during the year, but he always felt just the slightest bit on edge. He was always hyper aware of being a rookie, knowing that every movement he made was being scrutinized not only by the media and the fans, but the team as well, coaches, management, even other players. 

JVR and Bozie were always around, and they always seemed to be watching. Mitch knew they were probably just looking out for him, but part of him felt like they were also waiting for him to screw up, to do something wrong. At home his mom was always around, and Mitch loved his mom, loved living with her and appreciated everything she gave up to help him through his first year in the league, but he felt like he didn’t have a chance to rest all season long. 

He could rest now, if only for a little while. Once he went home he would have to start thinking about training again, making his body stronger, better. Mitch loved it, wouldn’t trade any bit of his life for anything, but it was nice to have a chance to relax and just be a kid on vacation. 

After Mitch turned off the Mem Cup stream, he went out with the boys confident that he would speak to Dylan the next day. 

He woke up the following morning in his hotel room, the sun shining through the open curtains--he forgot to close them the previous night--and checked his phone. 

There was still no message from Dylan, but it was early. Mitch had a late night, and he was sure Dylan’s was even later, dealing with teammates and saying goodbye to junior hockey. Mitch’s own farewell tour in the CHL had a happy ending. He checked twitter, reading some of Dylan’s quotes from the previous night. 

He sighed, wishing he could be with his boyfriend right now. Dylan was the one who encouraged him to go on the trip. Mitch wanted to hang around when he got back from Europe, maybe drive down to Windsor and watch Dylan play. It wouldn’t be that strange, he insisted, there were plenty of NHLers doing the same. 

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “Alumi, that’s different.” 

“It’s not that different,” Mitch said. 

“It is,” Dylan said. “And it’d be weird, okay? Just go on vacation with your boys, and I’ll see you when you get back.” 

Mitch wanted to push it further, but he recognized the tone in Dylan’s voice. No matter how hard Mitch pushed him, Dylan wouldn’t budge, and the two of them would only end up mad and upset with each other. That wasn’t what Mitch wanted. 

He could see now that Dylan had a point. It must have been weird enough for him with people like Connor coming down and participating in pre-game shows and other interviews. Being part of things, but still apart from Dylan and the other guys competing. 

Eventually Mitch got out of bed and went to rummage for food in their suite’s kitchen. He put a bagel into the toaster and turned on the coffee machine. While he waited for his food he ate a banana, thinking about what he wanted to do that day. 

Slowly, the other guys emerged from their bedrooms. Mitch talked Dvo into going down to the beach with him, and they spent most of the morning napping on the sand, only taking breaks for quick dips into the water or reapplying their sunscreen. At lunchtime they went back to the hotel, only to return to the water when they were done, this time with a cooler full of beer. 

Mitch had his phone with him the whole time, and he fought the urge to check it every few minutes. 

Chris dragged him along for dinner, despite Mitch’s protests. He wasn’t really feeling like being around people, all he wanted to do was talk to Dylan and he didn’t know if he could. Dylan still hadn’t called. 

“Stop moping,” Chris said, as he shoved Mitch towards the shower. “Just come out and have a good time, you’ll feel better.” 

Mitch finally gave in, partially out of a need to stop Chris’s cajolling, and partially because his brother was right. Mitch was on vacation, and Dylan wasn’t. They had gone longer than a day without speaking before, everything would be fine. 

Dinner was a good time, even though Mitch hated to admit when Chris had a point. Mitch drank a few beers, nothing that would get him completely hammered, but enough to feel loose and happy. The alcohol settled low and warm in his belly, and combined with the heat that still lingered in the air, Mitch had a sheen of sweat coating his body. 

Most of their group wanted to go out dancing after dinner, but Mitch wasn’t feeling it. He came back to the room with Aaron, brushing off Chris and Dvo’s complaints and encouragements. 

He wasn’t _worried_ , he told himself back at the hotel. Dylan would be in touch when he was ready and Mitch would give him space until then. 

It didn’t take long until the quiet of their suite started to feel oppressive rather than relaxing. Aaron holed himself up in his bedroom, probably talking to his girlfriend, and Mitch felt antsy. Maybe he should have gone out with the boys, after all, although he certainly would have regretted that decision too. 

He didn’t want to sit around the hotel room and watch TV on vacation, so he decided to go down to the beach again. Close to the water nearly all of the day’s heat was swept away, and Mitch enjoyed the cool breeze that was coming off the ocean as he walked. 

He stuck his feet into the water, letting the sand pull him down and cover him up to his ankles. When the waves got high enough to threaten getting him drenched he retreated, enjoying the way the sand felt between his toes, a warm contrast to the cold water. 

There was a hammock further up the beach, and Mitch made his way towards it. Finding it luckily vacated, he climbed in, letting the breeze rock him gently. The crashing of the waves, and the low sound of voices over the ridge were soothing in a way the harsh light of the hotel hadn’t been. 

Mitch shifted his weight to pull his phone out of his pocket. Finding no text from Dylan he wondered if he should send something, but couldn’t bring himself to. His unanswered message stared at him, and Mitch wanted to let Dylan make that choice. 

He sighed. 

Sometime later, Mitch wasn’t sure when, he must have fallen asleep. When he woke up it was nearly completely dark on the beach. Above him, he could see way more stars than he was used to. He fished his phone from where it had fallen from his grip and checked the time. 

It was almost three in the morning and there was a missed call and a text from Dylan. 

_Sorry I missed u :( call u tomorrow_

Mitch groaned. The only thing keeping from from panicking was several heart emojis Dylan added at the end of his message. Part of him wanted to call Dylan now regardless of the time, but the rest of him knew that wasn’t a good idea. 

He stared up at the night sky for another moment, gathering the will to make his way back to his hotel room with a nice comfy bed. Still, he kind of wanted to spend the night on the beach. It was only when he started to nod off again that he managed to haul himself out of the hammock and back to his room. 

Mitch slept late the next morning. They had a boat excursion planned that Mitch was tempted to skip, but he talked himself out of it. 

_Going out on the water for a bit_ , he texted Dylan. _call me later?_

He put his phone in his pocket and resolved to ignore it the rest of the day. 

The sun and waves were beautiful, and despite the nagging ball of anxiety that sat in the bottom of his stomach, he managed to have a good time. It was hard to be upset or worried when the sun was shining and he had a bunch of friends around him. Everything would be okay, he told himself. 

Mitch got a burn on the water, leaving his skin hot and tingling to the touch. Back in their rooms, he kept poking at his shoulder, watching the way the skin would turn white and then slowly fade back to bright red. 

“You want some aloe?” Zach asked. 

Mitch nodded, and followed Zach into his bedroom where he rummaged through his bags and pulled out a bottle of aloe, tossing it at Mitch. He caught it easily. “Thanks,” he said. 

Zach smiled. “No worries, man.” 

Mitch wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, and then went back to his room. He cracked open the bottle, pressing the cool glass against his heated skin for a moment of relief, then drank deeply. Both the coldness and the taste as the liquid rolled down his throat were soothing. 

He poured some aloe gel into his hand and rubbed it against his shoulders. The aloe provided instant relief, and Mitch slathered it on every bit of him he could reach. He was about to go find someone to get his back when his phone rang. 

Dylan’s face popped up on his caller ID, and Mitch swallowed around pointless nerves. Everything would be okay, he reassured himself one more time. “Hey,” he said. “How’s it going?” 

“Hi,” Dylan said. His voice was subdued, but not devastated. “Going okay,” he said. Then, “Been better.” 

“Yeah,” Mitch said. “Sucks, man. You were so great.” 

Dylan let out a small chuckle, devoid of humour. “I guess.” 

Mitch wanted to press the issue. He watched Dylan’s games and knew how great he was. The MVP trophy spoke for itself. But he knew that wasn’t the trophy Dylan really wanted, and that it would take longer than a few days for the sting to fade. 

“You back at home now?” Mitch asked, trying to change the subject. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about it with Dylan, but he didn’t really know how. Even when it was the two of them together losing in Finland, Mitch didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know then and he didn’t know now. 

“Yeah,” Dylan said. He sighed. “Listen, Dave Tippett called me.” 

It took a moment for Mitch to recognize the name, mostly because it was the last thing he expected Dylan to say. “Oh yeah?” he asked. 

Dylan made an affirmative sound. “Yeah. He and the team want me to go down to Arizona and train.” 

“Oh!” Mitch said. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? When do they want you, July or--?” 

“Next week,” Dylan said. His voice was carefully neutral. 

“Next week?” That was so soon. Much sooner than Mitch was expected. He wasn’t ready to lose Dylan yet. 

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “I’ll probably head out in a few days actually.” He paused again. “You know, get settled, find a place to stay.” 

“But that’s before I get back,” Mitch said. He could hardly process what was happening right now. 

“Yeah,” Dylan said. The measured tone in his voice wavered, just a bit. 

They were both quiet, Mitch didn’t know what to say. “I can come back early,” he blurted. “Tomorrow. Today, even.” 

Dylan let out a low sound, cleared his voice. “No,” he said. “No, you don’t have to.” 

“I want to.” 

“No,” Dylan said again. “It’s going to be really busy, I don’t know if--” He cut off. 

Mitch wondered if he was being dumped. “I thought you said-- You said you wanted to do something just you and me.” His throat felt so tight he had to force the words out. He tipped his head back, blinking fast. 

“I did,” Dylan said. 

“But not anymore?” Mitch hated how small his voice sounded. He hated how insignificant he felt. Tiny. Miniscule. 

“Of course I still do,” Dylan said. “But you don’t know what it’s like--” 

“I know what it’s like to lose,” Mitch protested. 

“You don’t know what it’s like to lose this,” Dylan said, and that was true. “You don’t know what it’s like to see everyone, your best friend, guys drafted after you, your fucking boyfriend--” He spit the word out so it was something ugly, “You see all them making the show, but you can’t cut it. You _don’t_ fucking know what that’s like, Mitch.” 

And, well. “I guess not,” he said.

“I have to do it,” Dylan said. “I have to fucking make it. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’m going to do whatever the Coyotes tell me I need to do, and I just need you to get that, okay? Can you please?” 

His voice got higher, more desperate as he went on, and what was Mitch going to do? “Of course,” he said. “I do, of course I get it, Dyl.” 

Dylan drew in a shaky breath. “Okay,” he said. 

“Okay,” Mitch echoed. 

They breathed together over the phone line. 

“Are we okay?” Mitch asked. 

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “I mean, I think so? Are we?” 

“We are,” Mitch agreed, trying to mean it with every fiber of his being, trying to will it hard enough to make it true. 

“Okay,” Dylan said. “So, I’ll see you, right?” 

“Yes,” Mitch agreed, although he didn’t know when. “You will, for sure. We’ll work it out.” 

“I love you,” Dylan said. 

“Love you too,” Mitch said, and they hung up a few moments later. Mitch felt dazed. He wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, or what he was going to do next. He took several minutes to calm himself down before going back out into the main room. 

“Everything okay there, Mitchy?” Dvo asked. 

Mitch looked at him. “I don’t know,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> ha ha sorry


End file.
